


Smoke Fox and Stone Ram

by Thorinsmut



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Complete, Dwarven WWE AU, Fighting Ring, Kindness, M/M, Nwalin Week, Poverty, Secret Identities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: It wasn’t legal, the fighting ring; not really.





	1. Fox and Ram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nwalin Week Day 2 - Fox AND Ram

It wasn’t legal, the fighting ring; not really.

There were laws that, technically, _should_ have shut it down. But it managed to skirt just to the edge of them, and it was a great way to make some spare coin if you were any good, and so long as no one was being _hurt_ the powers that be were willing to turn an indulgently blind eye.

In a nod to the illegality of the ring, competitors hid their faces with fanciful masks and helms to hide their identities, and used absurd stage names. It was as much theater as it was battle.

Few were as popular, or won as consistently, as the Stone Ram. He was a great giant of a dwarf, all muscles, and he always fought shirtless to show off the hairy strength of his body, much to the delight of the crowds. His helm was a beautiful work of art, finely worked blackened steel shaped like a ram’s skull to cover his face. Though the helm had two curled horns on it that seemed to offer a handhold, and even though the Stone Ram favored fighting close and grappling, it did not prove a handicap. He was too strong, and too skilled. When he swaggered into the arena, roaring and beating his chest, the audience never failed to go wild.

Dwalin settled the helm and the persona of the Stone Ram over himself, feeling the familiar thrill of adrenaline course through him. He did not know his competitor, a new fighter, all he knew is that he went by ‘Smoke Fox’. It happened a few times a year that some cocky young thing wanted to face the best as soon as they joined the ring. Dwalin was always happy to show them their error. He was not the best by _chance_ , but by skill.

Dwalin bellowed the Stone Ram’s challenge as he entered the arena, flexing and showing off for the crowds. They ate him up, chanting his name–and then his competitor’s as Smoke Fox made his entrance.

It seemed a joke. Smoke Fox came in dancing and tumbling like a jester, flips and cartwheels, and he was _tiny_. Grown dwarves were not meant to be so slender. Ram scoffed, loudly, to much agreement from the crowd. They could not possibly mean him to fight this little lad? This dancing jokester?

Yes, it seemed they did. Fox accused him of cowardice in a high nasal sneer and did one last backbend to get into position to square up against Ram. It was slow, a gorgeous arch of his body into a bow, a slow rise as he brought his legs over his head and then over to the ground before him. Slow, and smooth, and Ram _knew_ the kind of muscle control that must take. That, and the razor-thin smile below Fox’s ornate leather eye-mask, were the only warnings he had that this was not going to be an _easy_ match.

The bell rang, Ram made a grab for him, but Fox had already spun away and landed three sharp blows that made his arm go numb up to the shoulder. _Smoke_ described the small dwarf’s fighting style perfectly. He was never there when Ram reached for him, always just out of reach. If there was a fool in this fight, it was Ram who was made it. He looked as bumbling as the adolescent he’d taken Fox for, stumbling uselessly after him.

By the time Fox cleverly knocked his feet out from under him the third time, ending the match, he had only returned the favor once, and that had been pure luck. Ram laughed, flat on his back on the ground. How could he do anything else?

The judge held up Fox’s hand in victory, and Ram surged up. He grabbed hold of Fox, lifting him easily up onto his shoulder to better wave to the cheering crowds. Never let it be said that Ram was any worse a loser than he was a winner. He carried Smoke Fox out of the arena, clearing it for the next match, and set him down in privacy.

Dwalin pulled the Stone Ram mask off his face, smiling down at the impossible little dwarf who’d defeated him. _him_. “Who are you?” he asked, breathless. “Where did you learn that? I must know.”

Smoke Fox smiled like a blade’s edge as he wound one hand around Dwalin’s neck, pulling him down and himself up. “Ah-ah,” he chided softly, and pressed a chaste peck of a kiss to Dwalin’s lips that knocked the air from his lungs for all it was so simple. “That’s not how the game’s played, is it, gorgeous?” Smoke Fox purred.

Then he twisted away, and was gone, leaving Dwalin reeling in his wake.


	2. Under Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nwalin Week Day 3 - Under Mountain

 After his stunning defeat, Dwalin kept a close eye on Smoke Fox’s fighting career. He was as much a fan as he was a fighter in the ring, and Smoke Fox was a rapidly rising star. His win against Dwalin in his first match was proven to be anything but a fluke, as he repeated the performance with many of the other best fighters.

He loved watching Smoke Fox fight, seeing how he moved _so fast_ and made dwarves far stronger than him look like bumbling novices in the ring. Fox was beautiful in the ring, with his thick hair braided tight into a bun at the back of his head to keep it out of his way, with his clothes tailored in to offer no handhold, and his little mask glittering with fake gems to draw the eye. Smoke Fox’s fights became some of Dwalin’s very favorites.

Dwalin was happy to watch him and cheer for him, yes, but he also studied Smoke Fox’s fighting technique, and trained to counter it. He had to learn to be faster, better balanced, more resilient, if he had any chance of winning against the smaller dwarf.

Stone Fox never spoke to him, hadn’t approached him since that one glorious tease of a kiss, but he did occasionally wave his fingers or blow a kiss in Dwalin’s direction if he noticed Dwalin watching him after a fight–a showman to rival the best of them.

It was a little over a year later when Smoke Fox and Stone Ram were again matched together for a fight. They were both popular, now, and the stands were packed full with dwarves eager to see Dwalin fight one of the only competitors who’d ever taken him down.

Ram worked the crowd into a frenzy, and this time neither he nor the crowd were put off guard by Smoke Fox’s showy dancing entrance. They all knew what he was capable of, now.

The bell rang, and Ram lunged to the side, intercepting Fox in his favorite opening salvo and slamming him clear down to the ground. Fox hit hard, coppery eyes wide behind his mask as he coughed the breath back into his lungs.

The crowd screamed.

Ram offered Fox a hand up, but Fox hissed and rolled to his feet unassisted, teeth bared. It had been a slick trick, but Ram knew he wouldn’t get away with it twice. Fox was too canny to underestimate him, now that Ram had proven to know his techniques so well.

It was a brutal match after that. Ram and Fox fought each other to two and two and it was anyone’s match until Ram happened to catch hold of Smoke Fox’s arm and rolled his whole body into taking him to the ground in the instant before Fox could escape his grasp.

Stone Ram’s heart was singing, his body thrumming with the adrenaline of the fight. He stood, roaring with both fists raised to the stone roof as the crowd went wild. It had been nearly as exciting for them as it had him. Ram reached for Smoke Fox’s hand, to take a bow together after such a good match. Fox had more than earned his share of the accolades–but Smoke Fox jerked away.

“Now, lads, end it on a sweet note for the audience,” the judge hissed through hir teeth in a fixed smile, and Smoke Fox wordlessly smacked Ram’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie, allowed Ram to do the same, and then briefly lifted Ram’s arm in another victory pose to concede the win.

Ram would have thought it was just poor sportsmanship if he hadn’t seen the shine of tears glistening behind Fox’s mask as he turned sharply away to clear the ring. Ram took one last quick bow to the audience, took the winner’s purse, and followed after him. There was something else going on, he could feel it in his boots.

Smoke Fox was crumpled on a bench, masked face in his hands as he breathed as carefully as someone who was trying very hard not to cry. Dwalin sat down, and set the beautiful blackened-steel Ram’s helmet to his other side. He only wanted to be Dwalin, here.

“Come to gloat?” Fox snapped, all teeth to hide his hurt. “Regained your honor, trounced a dwarf half your size, and took home the winner’s gold. Well done.”

“No,” Dwalin said simply.

“Then what do you _want_?” Fox demanded, voice breaking.

“To know what’s wrong.”

“Ha,” Fox spat out. “I was _this close_. If I was fast enough, or smart enough, I could have…” He broke himself off, shaking his head hard. A few tears fell, sparkling, through the holes of his mask.

“What did you need the money for?” Dwalin asked.

“What do you care?”

“Hey,” Dwalin elbowed him, gently. “We’re all Dwarves under the same mountain. All us fighters, we’re miners in the same mineshaft.”

“Yeah, right,” Fox scoffed.

Something chilled in Dwalin’s chest. For all his wins, for all his popularity, Smoke Fox hadn’t spent much time socializing with the other fighters. Maybe it was even his wins that had made others reluctant to befriend him–or made him think others wouldn’t want to befriend him. He’d been going it alone.

“We can play up our rivalries out there,” Dwalin gestured out toward the ring, where the faint sounds of the crowd cheering for the next set echoed in. “but we have to look out for each other. When Beryl Barrel broke her arm, we all made sure she and her family were taken care of. When The Tormentors needed a new house, we all pitched in. So. What are _you_ fighting for.”

Smoke Fox hesitate, then sniffled hard and shrugged one shoulder, looking away from Dwalin. “Same old sob story. Ma’s got the dragon cough, baby sib’s sickly, and I’m no good for honest work.”

“Ah,” Dwalin said, understandingly. The medicines that helped with the dragon cough, the strange ailment that dogged some of those who’d been too close to the Dragon’s fire when Erebor fell, were rare and expensive even with all the support Thorin could provide.

Dwalin hefted the winner’s purse in his hand, pulled out a handful of the coin–maybe a third of it–and handed the rest of it toward Smoke Fox. “Here. You earned it, it was anyone’s fight.”

Fox hesitated, mouth going thin, and then grabbed the purse out of Dwalin’s hand like he thought Dwalin might change his mind. Dwalin smiled and nodded, to show he wasn’t, then smacked his knees and stood to dress himself and go home.

“It’s…” Fox touched Dwalin’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He seemed reluctant to continue, but then reached up and untied the ribbon that held his mask. Without it, he was strikingly handsome–with thick brows braided up into his hair, and a hooked keel of a nose that anyone would envy. “It’s Nori, son of Ari,” he said. Nori shrugged, self deprecating. “You asked. First time we fought.”

Dwalin bowed neatly, hand over his heart. “Dwalin, son of Fundin,” he introduced.

“Oh, I knew that,” Nori’s smile, unobscured, was downright deadly in its impish mischief, and sent a rush of appreciative warmth through Dwalin’s body. Nori stood as well, and hid his wonderful face behind his mask again. “I owe you one, Ram.”

“No, you don’t,” Dwalin contradicted, meeting Nori’s eye to try and make sure he was completely understood. The last thing he wanted between them was _obligation_.

Nori’s cheeks, what was visible of them, went pink, so maybe he understood a little of what Dwalin meant. Dwalin grinned and winked, and walked away, and it felt _right_ that this time he was the one leaving Nori reeling.


	3. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori's perspective on the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for brief mention of survival sex work

Dwarves, in general, put little stock in the seasons. Safe under their mountains, the weather outside meant little to them, other than the predictable fluctuation in the prices of outside goods.

Nori, though, had spent most of his life on the surface. Summer was a time of warmth and joy and plenty, and winter... winter was bitter cold, hunger, and despair.

 

As far as Nori was concerned, it had been been winter for a very long time.

 

The fighting ring helped.

It was reliable money, just as long as Nori could keep winning. He was difficult to counter, he knew that, and worked hard to keep it true. Among Men, it was because he was strong and had a low center of gravity compared to them. Among Dwarves, it was because he was so fast in comparison. He was very good, he knew he was, and his consistent wins proved it.

Years of being a spectacle, working in the carnivals of Men, had taught him how to put on a show—to make difficult wins look easy and skilled opponents look fools. It could have gone very poorly for him, making a mockery of his competitors, were it not for Stone Ram.

Nori _liked_ him. He'd liked the big hairy bear of a Dwarf from the first time he watched Stone Ram swagger out into the arena and grapple his opponent into submission without breaking a sweat. He was the best, the crowd's favorite, and he took his loss at 'Smoke Fox's' hands like it was a gift. He _laughed_ , flat on his back and defeated. He lifted Nori onto his (very broad, very strong and sturdy) shoulder, to lift him up and let him blow kisses to the crowd—and the crowd loved it just as much as they loved Stone Ram.

Nori had been afraid, of course, when Stone Ram carried him out of the arena—out of sight—but he had instead set Nori down safely and removed his helm to reveal that he was, in fact, the King's own cousin as the rumors suggested. Dwalin looked at Nori like he'd never seen anything so wonderful, and Nori flirted and kissed him to get him off balance, and fled like that's what he'd intended all along.

With the best and most popular fighter taking Nori's win so well, none of the other fighters could do less when Nori trounced them. With 'Stone Ram' showing up occasionally to cheer for him, the crowd could not turn against him for shaming their favorites. Nori liked Dwalin even better for that, for gifting him that grace and acceptance.

The winnings helped. For the price of a few bruises and the occasional strained muscle, Nori could pay for his amad's medicines. He could make sure little Ori never had to go cold or hungry, and Ori stopped getting sick quite so often. Because of the fighting ring, Nori didn't have to rely on theft, breaking Ari and Dori's hearts in the process, even if they couldn't turn away the help. A little poaching from the lands of men, a little fighting in the arena, and it still wasn't quite honorable but it was the best Nori could do with his particular skillset.

 

For a year, it was good; but the winter was not over.

 

Nori had to face 'Stone Ram' again eventually. He entered the arena in good spirits, confident that he would win again—and did not. Maybe, if he hadn't been so cocky, he could have: if he'd realized that he no longer had the element of surprise, if Dwalin hadn't gotten that first shocking takedown in mere seconds. It had been a mistake, a massive miscalculation, and it cost Nori the win.

Dwalin was the best. He had the natural advantage of being stronger and larger than most other dwarves, but that wasn't the only reason. He was flexible enough to learn to counter even Nori, and curse his heart Nori _liked_ him for that, too. Even when Dwalin got the third takedown on him, crushing him into the floor like an avalanche, inescapable.

Considering how Dwalin had treated him after Nori beat him, Nori should have given him back the same good grace. He should have, but he had never been a good dwarf. He was not that noble. All he could think of, as Dwalin flexed and showboated for the crowd, was of his amad choking on those horrible hacking coughs, until her throat was raw to bleeding and her ribs bruised from the force of it, when they had nothing better than cheap mallow-root tea to try and soothe it. All he could see was little Ori smiling and running up to him when he came home, and having no food to offer him.

Not to mention the worst days, those nights when Dori—beautiful stone-wed Dori who worked so hard to provide and hated it when a stranger so much as touched his hand—went out again after a long day of work with different braids and fewer clothes, and came home very late with shadows in his eyes but gold in his pockets. It was honest money, but Dori hated it.

Let the crowd and the fighters all think 'Smoke Fox' was a poor loser, Nori didn't have it in him to celebrate Dwalin's win when it cost Nori's family so much. He did the bare minimum he had to, to concede the match, and left as quickly as he could.

Nori couldn't go home empty handed. The participants pay they gave to losers was just a few silver, not nearly enough. He _couldn't_ do that to his family. They were depending on him, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for them. Better to break their hearts than leave them wanting. Better his family were ashamed of him, than hurting.

Ari and Dori had been so proud of him for turning a new leaf like this, and he was going to turn all that pride into disappointment. Nori was going to prove right every single person who'd ever sneered and said he would never amount to anything. When push came to shove, he had a particular skillset that he'd learned young and well he could always fall back on. It would take a few days, at least, to scope out a suitable target and rob them for everything they were worth. He didn't have any more time than that, though. The pantry was running low and his amad couldn't stretch her supply of medicine much further.

It would hurt, to lose his family's approval, but Nori would do it without question. Sometimes a family needed to have a black sheep, an outcast who would do what honorable dwarves could not. Nori knew what he was, and what he had to do, but it still ached like a punch to the gut.

He'd actually thought, for a moment, that he could be something else.

And then Dwalin, strong honorable Dwalin who was everything a Dwarf was supposed to be and had never once had to compromise himself in his life, came and sat beside him. In that moment Nori hated himself for how much he liked him, but Dwalin would not rise to the bait when Nori snapped at him.

 

Nori came home in a daze. He didn't buy food on the way there, or go to the apothecary for his amad's medicine how he usually did. He just went home, and put the purse of winnings on the table between Ari and Dori. It clinked, heavy the way nothing but gold was, and could still hardly believe it was real.

"Another flawless win for 'Smoke Fox'?" Dori asked, with a smile over his embroidery.

"I lost." Nori sounded as confused as he felt, and sat down heavily in his favorite chair while they all three stared at the purse.

Dori was the one who reached out, upending the purse to pour the gold coins out onto the table. "Then how..?"

"He _gave_ it to me." It made no sense, no sense at all. "It was such a close match, but Stone Ram beat me, and then he just gave me the winner's purse?" Nori could see, in Dori's face, the same calculations he'd been trying to make. Trying to figure out what Dwalin was after.

Before they could get into it together, little Ori noticed Nori was home and ran in to climb into his lap and ask what treats Nori had brought—because Nori had never failed to bring something home.

"Sorry little bird, I forgot," Nori apologized, hugging Ori tight and continuing before his baby sib had a chance to get too sad. "How about I take you to market tomorrow and let you pick something out yourself?"

Ori was easily mollified with a silver piece to hold on to until it could be spent at market, and Dori set his embroidery aside to count the coin Nori had brought home to add it to their budget.

"I hope you thanked Stone Ram," Ari said, voice hoarse and quiet. His amad's voice had always been lovely to Nori, so different from most dwarves, before he came to realize its sound was a direct consequence of the dragon cough that was trying to kill her. She smiled, still a beauty despite the deep lines the illness had carved into her face, and clasped her hands together as though she'd just had the very best idea. "We'll have him over for dinner!"

"Amad," Dori chided, lightly. "We don't even know who he is, beyond Nori's stories." Quite a few stories they'd been, too, with Nori gushing over the best contender in the fighting ring—other than himself of course.

"Dwalin, son of Fundin," Nori named him for the first time to his family. Dwalin wouldn't have given Nori his name if he wanted it kept secret.

Not even Dori could seriously argue against Dwalin. Everyone knew of him, the strongest warrior in the blue mountains, close to Thorin and fantastically loyal to the royal family. Dwalin had been hardly more than a child when Erebor fell, but there were many stories among the refugees of him stepping in to help and protect them in the terrible early days. Dwalin was honorable, and beloved outside the fighting ring even more than 'Stone Ram' was within it.

Ari had decided that they would have Dwalin over, and no one could come up with an argument good enough to budge her. She penned the invitation herself, with the immaculate penmanship she'd learned as a courtesan in Erebor and had never forgotten in all the long years since. It looked good, even on cheap paper and sealed with plain candle wax and a simple wooden stamp instead of real sealing wax and a signet ring.

It took Ari back to those good times, to be courting a noble son. She was happy, and neither Nori nor Dori had the heart to ruin what little happiness she could find. It was only at bed time, after she and Ori were settled, that Dori would speak his worries to Nori in private.

"We're lucky he gave you the winnings," Dori said, quietly. "But what does he want in exchange?" Nothing was free. Dori had learned that hard lesson just as surely as Nori had.

"I don't know," Nori admitted. "I told him. I said I owed him one, and he said no like he meant it."

Dori chewed on his bottom lip, brow furrowed, before he shrugged—as much at a loss as Nori was. "I suppose we'll find out. For the moment, I'm just relieved we have the gold. Without it..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

Nori put his arm around Dori's neck to gently knock heads with his brother, staying close afterward to share breath and comfort. "I wasn't coming home empty handed," he promised as he let Dori go, and he made himself keep smiling even when Dori made a pained noise and threw him a beseeching look.

Nori knew what he was, and it was the one who did _whatever_ was necessary.

 

Winter was the season of killing cold and knife-sharp ice. There was no time for sentimentality in winter, only survival.

 

It was _always_ winter.

 

Dwalin sent an acceptance back to Ari's invitation in a bold square hand, and Nori took the risk of a special poaching trip to get extra meat to serve him. The food they could offer was simple, but nourishing. Their house was plain, but Dori made sure it was immaculately clean and it was a warm and welcoming space.

They had no jewels to decorate themselves with, but the truest finery any dwarf could wear was beautiful braids, and their family had always been well gifted with hair. Nori made up for his general scrawniness by crowning himself with three extravagant braid-topped peaks, very different from his tight fighting braids, to best show off his hair's loft and volume. Dori was decorated with an immaculately understated net of braids over the top of his head, tight and prim. Ari was as elegant as a queen, with her long snow-white beard split down the middle and swept up behind her head. A widow's braids had never been so alluring. Even little Ori was adorable wearing child's braids with cast-off ends of ribbon braided into them.

"There," Ari said, a bright hint of tears in her eyes as she pretended to tuck away a stray hair from Dori's perfect braids. "We don't need jewelry to do our line proud after all, do we?"

They looked like beggars compared to the stories Nori had heard, where inexperienced foreign diplomats had been known to mistake them for royalty. Their family had been the jewel-bedecked ornaments of the royal court, but the court in exile had no use for ornamentation. Now they simply survived, along with everyone else, but they looked good doing it.

Nori was cut out of too coarse a cloth be a good courtesan, anyway. He had the entertainment bit down pat, but soothing tempers, stroking egos, and subtly greasing the wheels of diplomacy wasn't his style.

Dwalin's heavy knock sounded at the door, just on time, and Nori let him in. Dwalin looked the same as he ever did, only with a sturdy green tunic hiding his magnificent chest from view. It couldn't disguise the breadth of his shoulders or the bulge of his muscles, though. He froze for a few seconds, eyes widening as he took Nori in, and then beyond him to the rest of the family, but then back to Nori like a magnet. Nori knew that kind of look.

Dwalin gathered himself to give a very polite bow, and Ari was quick to make all the proper welcoming noises. Dwalin was tense and terse, at first, but when he relaxed he was gruffly charming and won over the whole family. He ate heartily, with every sign of enjoyment, and did not ask about the provenance of the mixed game in the stew. He charmed Ari by greeting her as a courtesan despite everything, and reminiscing with her about Erebor. Then Ori, once the little one had gotten over the first wide-eyed shyness, by temporarily gifting one of his knuckledusters for Ori to play with.

He charmed Dori, jack of all trades that he was, by praising his craftsmanship in things he had made around the house. Dwalin wasn't one for flowery words, but his plain appreciation seemed truer for its simplicity.

Nori was already charmed, despite himself. Dwalin still praised his fighting skills to his family, and they were pleasingly impressed that the strongest warrior thought so well of him.

" _He wants you_ ," Dori signed to Nori, out of Dwalin's sight, when dinner was over and Dwalin was sitting with Ari and bouncing Ori on his knee. Ori had found a new favorite person, and Dwalin was as easy with the little one as if he dealt with children every day. Maybe he did, with Lady Dis' little Fili and Kili.

Nori just smiled at Dori and wagged his eyebrows a bit. He knew. He knew what it meant that Dwalin kept looking at him, kept standing or sitting close to him and leaning toward him, and it was a relief to finally know what Dwalin wanted from him. It wouldn't be the first or the last time Nori used a friendly tumble to even the scores, and it would be anything but a hardship to do so with Dwalin.

Nori would have done Dwalin for free, had he ever offered.

Dwalin looked away from Ari, toward Nori again, and Nori kept smiling as he ambled in to sit beside him and join the conversation.

Ari loved entertaining visitors, but she grew tired so easily these days, and Dwalin did not overstay his welcome. He bowed and kissed the back of her hand, like she was still the treasure of the court, and Nori saw him out while Dori helped their amad prepare for bed.

Dwalin paused at the door, and Nori stepped in close and touched his arm to let him know that his invitation would be welcome. He could predict the suggestion of heading somewhere more private that was to come.

Dwalin put his big warm hand on Nori's shoulder, anchoring him in place, but when he leaned in it was to knock foreheads—the friendly gesture somehow more intimate than the lewd welcome of the kiss Nori would have expected. "Thank you," Dwalin said, gruffly. "This was... good." He looked out into the darkness of the mountain, took a step away, then turned back again. "I was thinking," he started, and Nori stepped forward, expecting the invitation now. "A few of the ring fighters have agreements," Dwalin continued. "Split the winnings half and half no matter who wins, when they fight each other. We could. If you want?"

That was... not an invitation to bed at all, and Nori could feel his eyebrows climbing in surprise. He quickly schooled them and smirked, lounging against the doorframe. "Says who you'd be the one winning, next time?"

Dwalin shrugged, a bit of a smile hiding behind his coarse beard. "You might win. You'll be ready for me, I'm sure. Study up and train to counter me." He leaned in close. "You're very good, but so am I, and I'll be doing the same thing." It was something of a promise, and almost a threat, but all of a challenge. Nori's entire body went hot, excitement and adrenaline blending with a sudden blossoming of arousal. Dwalin flashed his teeth and turned away again. "Think about it," he suggested. "Sure money," he held up one hand, "Or chance." he held up the other.

He didn't wait for an answer, just walked away to be swallowed up in the dark of the night. Nori was frozen in the doorway for long moments before he quietly closed the door and rested back against it. His eyes were unfocused, not seeing anything in their plain little house.

That had not gone at all as he expected. He hadn't expected Dwalin to _demand_ payment, but he'd expected it to be _asked_. Dwalin hadn't done anything of the sort. He had come to visit as a friend, and made Nori a generous offer as an _equal_ in the ring. Nori knew that Dwalin didn't have that kind of agreement with anyone else he fought. He wouldn't have offered to split the payment if he didn't think there was an even chance of winning or losing against Nori.

 

Equals. Friendship. Kindness, with no debts between them.

 

Nori wondered if this was what it felt like, when winter started to break with the coming of spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN


End file.
